


I Think We Have An Emergency

by eternaleponine



Series: Love In Inappropriate Places [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 03:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Clarke is at the beginning of a long shift in the ER, and all she can think about is Lexa, and what she's doing, and what she is (or isn't) wearing.  An innocent text becomes a not-so-innocent text, becomes... well...Once again, this is allDreamsAreMyWordsfault.





	I Think We Have An Emergency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamsAreMyWords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsAreMyWords/gifts).



**Clarke:** Hey babe. What r u wearing?

Clarke backspaced, deleting the text. First of all, it drove Lexa crazy when people used letters instead of full words, especially when the words were only three letters long to begin with. Abbreviating a long word was one thing, but 'are' and 'you' were right out. Second, there was no way she could send Lexa a message like that. It was so stupid, and cliché, and...

... and Clarke was so damn horny she wanted to jump out of her own skin. It happened around this time of the month, every month, and usually she just had to grit her teeth and bear it, but now that she had Lexa in her life, and therefore a regular source of relief for this sort of situation, it made it a million times harder to ignore. 

Trouble was, she was at work for the next twelve hours... or ten hours, 48 minutes now... and Lexa was at home. Maybe Clarke's home, or maybe her own; Clarke wasn't sure. She'd left Lexa in her bed, but that didn't mean she would still be there – in the house, not in the bed, although possibly in the bed, sprawled out in some sexy lingerie, except she wasn't really a lingerie personal so maybe naked under the sheets, maybe on top of them, maybe already touching herself, getting herself worked up in anticipation of Clarke's arrival, maybe...

Clarke pressed her thighs together, trying to quell the pounding of her pulse between them. Why did she do this to herself? Maybe if she had something to do, something to distract her from thoughts of Lexa going through her morning routine without bothering to put any clothes on ( _Damn it, Griffin, get it together!_ ), maybe a nice trauma...

If she wasn't going to hell for hooking up in a church bathroom during a friend's wedding... and then again at the reception... then she certainly was for hoping that some misfortune would befall someone just to give her something to focus on that didn't involve Lexa naked and sweaty and...

She tapped out a message and hit send, hoping conversation would be enough.

 **Clarke:** Hey babe. What are you up to?

 **Lexa:** Just got back from a run, why?

So not naked, but definitely sweaty, which would mean showering, which would mean... Clarke buried her face in the crook of her elbow and groaned, then pushed herself away from the desk where she'd been sitting and got up to pace the halls. If anyone asked, she was checking on patients... except there weren't any patients that needed checking on. The few that were there were just being monitored, and the nurses would alert her to anything she needed to know. 

**Clarke:** No reason. 

**Lexa:** Slow shift?

 **Clarke:** I can neither confirm nor deny. 

Because the minute she said yes, something catastrophic would happen. Which was what she had just been hoping for, right? But not really. A slow day for them meant good days for everyone else. ER staff should cherish any day they got where they were bored out of their minds. 

**Lexa:** 🤐

Clarke smiled, imagining Lexa actually making the zipping her lips gesture, and then imagining herself working that zipper back open with her own tongue, lapping protests from Lexa's mouth as she eased down non-imaginary zippers and slipped her hand inside... 

But Lexa didn't jog in jeans, obviously. What Lexa jogged in was much easier to gain access to, although hard to maneuver once she got her hands where she wanted them; skin-tight spandex wanted to keep everything exactly where it was with as little movement as possible, after all.

Clarke ducked into one of the staff bathrooms and locked the door behind her.

 **Clarke:** What are you wearing?

There was no response, and Clarke thought maybe Lexa had put down her phone and gone to shower, but then the three dots that said Lexa was typing appeared, and Clarke bit her lip as she leaned against the wall, digging her fingers into her own thigh, waiting.

* * *

Lexa stared at her screen, as if by looking long enough the words might reorder themselves into something that made sense. Because 'what are you wearing?' didn't. What did it matter what she was wearing? It wasn't as if Clarke hadn't seen what she wore to go running on plenty of occasions. Why ask now? Why—

Oh. _Oh._

Her heart, which had just been starting to settle back into its normal rhythm, sped up again. 

Was Clarke serious? She was at work, and even if she was having a slow shift, that could change at any moment, and anyway, what was she going to do with the knowledge of what Lexa was wearing? It wasn't as if she could just sneak off and...

... and get herself off somewhere? Like, say, a church bathroom in the middle of a wedding?

 **Lexa:** Are you sure?

 **Clarke:** Completely.

_Okay then._

But everything Lexa typed sounded ridiculous, or not even remotely sexy, or both. Finally she gave up and switched over to the camera, taking pictures of the loose tank top she wore, emblazoned with the Nike swoosh and slogan. She followed it up with a shot of her leggings, prominently featuring the sheer panel that curved from her outer thigh to her inner calf. She stripped off the tank and got a shot of her upper body in just her sports bra, sweat still glistening on her chest and disappearing into her cleavage. 

She made sure her face wasn't in any of the shots; even if Clarke deleted them as soon as she was done with them, Lexa wasn't willing to take any chances. She doubted Clarke would mind; if she wanted to see Lexa's face, she had dozens of other pictures on her phone to choose from. 

**Clarke:** 😱😏😍

Emboldened by Clarke's appreciative emojis, Lexa pulled off the bra, crossing her arm over her chest and taking a picture that was mostly of her abs, and then another of her hipbones as she peeled down her leggings. Finally, when she was down to nothing but skin, she took a picture of the pile of clothing on the floor, making sure that Just Do It showed clearly. She quickly edited the picture, crossing out 'It' and changing it to 'Me', and hit Send.

* * *

Clarke looked at the last picture and groaned. 

_At least if I'm going to hell, I know I'll see her there,_ she thought, because encouraging Clarke to 'just do' her when she knew that there was still the better part of a day before they saw each other was absolute, pure evil. 

And Clarke loved her for it. 

**Clarke:** If tiy eree gere i wpyld 

She'd already sent the message before she realized how much of a mess it was, because texting with only one thumb was a disaster, but her other hand was otherwise occupied, and had been since just after the first set of pictures hit her screen. 

She rubbed herself hard and fast, knowing she might not have a lot of time. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Lexa's hand instead, that she'd followed her girlfriend into the shower after watching her undress, and Lexa had her pushed up against the tile, grinding against her ass as she urged her to climax with her fingers between her legs and a sibilant hiss of 'Come for me, Clarke, I need you to come, and I need you to make me come, I need you...'

Clarke's shoulder slammed into the wall as her knees buckled. All she could hear was the hammering of her heart in her ears and the rasp of her own breathing, and if it had been Lexa touching her instead of herself, she would have gone down, been prostrate on the floor or clinging to Lexa to stay upright. As it was, it was a few minutes before she could straighten and slip her hand back out of her scrubs. 

She checked herself in the mirror, and her cheeks were flushed but she otherwise looked mostly okay, mostly normal. She washed her hands like she was scrubbing for surgery and waited for her breathing to return to normal before exiting the bathroom, walking away from the ER until she was absolutely sure that all trace of what she'd done had been erased from her face.

* * *

**Clarke:** If tiy eree gere i wpyld 

_If tie ear—_ What kind of gibberish was _that_?

Lexa tried typing the words into her own phone, hoping maybe spellcheck would have some suggestions for what on earth Clarke had been trying – and failing – to say. 'Tiy'... try, toy, tie... None of those made sense. Erred, free, tree... Those didn't either. But 'gere' might be 'here' or 'were', and 'wpyld'...

_Oh._

_If you were here I would._

Lexa sucked in a breath. If Clarke was here... no, if Lexa was there, Clarke would 'just do' her. 

And now Clarke wasn't the only one hot and bothered. 

Lucky for Lexa, she'd been about to take a shower anyway. She nudged the knob to bump the water temperature down a few degrees, hoping to cool her ardor and the fresh sheen of sweat that had risen on her skin. A glance at herself in the mirror showed she was flushed, and not just from the run. She tugged the elastic band from her hair and tangled waves cascaded over her shoulders. She was a hot mess.

 _Nah, you're just hot,_ a little voice in the back of her head told her. A voice that sounded remarkably like Clarke. And there was no doubt in Lexa's mind that if Clarke was here, she wouldn't care about the snarls in her hair or the sweat on her skin, or the slight whiff of funk she'd gotten when divesting herself of her exercise gear. If Clarke was here, she might not even have made it to the shower, or if she did, it wouldn't be alone.

She gasped as the spray hit her skin, colder than she'd expected, and she twisted it back to warm it up just a little. Her hands strayed down her sides, over her hips and back up again, cupping her own breasts and imagining it was Clarke, imagining Clarke's hand sliding down over the ever-so-slight swell of her belly, fingers dragging through the sodden – and not just from the shower – curls and the tip of one finger brushing...

Lexa bit back a moan as she stroked her clit, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore the fact that she was touching herself, that it wasn't Clarke, and that no matter how good the orgasm was, she would have to work for it, and it wouldn't be half as good as the ones that Clarke drew from her almost effortlessly. 

_If you were here..._

It was a terrible idea. She could get Clarke in trouble. 

Since when had that ever stopped them?

* * *

"Dr. Griffin? Someone here to see you." 

"Thanks, April," Clarke said, looking up from the patient chart that she'd been staring mindlessly at for the last several minutes, her attention flickering to her phone every few seconds, waiting for a response from Lexa that still hadn't arrived. She'd had to shower, sure, but how long did that take? Had she decided to head home afterward? Had she had second thoughts about what they'd done – which really wasn't anything, and Clarke would delete the pictures if Lexa wanted her to – and was now having second thoughts about everything else, about _them_ , too? She itched to send her a text, to apologize or... something. She didn't know. She wasn't sorry... or she hadn't been. But if Lexa...

Lexa would have to wait. Someone was here to see her. She stood up and went to the front desk, figuring it was a family member of one of the patients, or maybe a former patient who wanted to thank her, or—

"Lexa?"

Lexa looked up from chatting with the attendant behind the desk and smiled. "I brought you lunch," she said, holding up a small cooler. "I know you—" She stopped, pressing her lips together so hard they turned white around the edges. 

"Thank you," Clarke said, trying to cover the awkward silence before it drew too much attention. She flashed what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Actually, I'm glad you're here. There was something I wanted to talk to you about." She motioned for Lexa to follow her, and after a second's hesitation, she did. 

"I'm sorry," Lexa hissed as soon as they were in the break room. "I wanted an excuse to be here, but then I realized people probably don’t know about us, or you, and—"

Clarke grabbed Lexa by the collar and dragged her into a bruising kiss. "Let them talk," she growled. "I have better things to do with my mouth right now." 

But not here. Too many people came in and out, and if they closed the door it would draw exactly the kind of attention that Lexa seemed to want to avoid. "Come on," she said, taking her by the wrist and drawing her to the door, and after a quick look to make sure the coast was clear, down one hall and then another until they reached the single stall admin bathroom that no one ever used on weekends. She pushed Lexa through and locked the door behind them. 

"I wasn't thinking," Lexa said. "I got your text, and—"

"Actually," Clarke said, backing her up against the wall and burying her face against her neck, letting her lips graze the sensitive skin of her throat, "you're thinking too much..." She nipped at Lexa's collarbone and then soothed the tiny bite with her tongue, and she felt Lexa shivering against her as tension was replaced by anticipation. "You're not wearing the shirt," she said.

"I showered," Lexa said, a hint of rasp to her voice as her breath caught. "I wasn't going to put it back on."

"Then how do I know the offer still stands?" Clarke teased, even as she peeled Lexa's leggings – not the ones she'd been wearing before, these ones were entirely opaque, more's the pity – down her hips enough to slip her hand inside. "Do you still want me to—"

" _Yes,_ " Lexa groaned, her short nails digging into Clarke's back as she arched, tilting her hips into Clarke's touch so that her fingers slipped over her clit and deeper into the slick heat. "Clarke..." as she teased, and, " _fuck_ ," as she thrust into her, first with one finger and then two, the heel of her hand grinding against Lexa's clit as they settled into a rhythm that had Lexa shuddering and clenching around her within minutes. 

And then Clarke's scrubs were sliding down her thighs, the drawstring undone by Lexa's trembling hand, her soaked panties following a second later, and Clarke's solo venture was a distant memory as Lexa sank to her knees. She gave one Clarke a long, worshipful look, then parted her thighs and planted a kiss between them, then another, and a third but this time her tongue flicked out and Clarke had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet. 

"Oh god," she groaned, "oh god, oh god Lexa..." 

Clarke didn't know if it was possible to smile while one was doing _that_ with one's tongue, but if it was she was sure that Lexa was positively beaming as she effortlessly picked Clarke apart at the seams and watched her unravel. 

The first orgasm nearly toppled her, but Lexa had hold of her and kept her upright, but the second sent her scrambling for something, anything to hold on to to keep herself from completely collapsing. She felt her hand close around a string and she didn't let go even as she slid down the wall and into Lexa's arms and lap.

* * *

Lexa kept one arm around Clarke, her gasping breath hot against Lexa's skin, and grabbed some tissue to wipe her face before kissing her. Their lips had barely met when someone pounded on the door. 

"Everything all right in there?" they called. 

Lexa's heart plunged, her blood turning to ice. Had someone heard them? Seen them? There weren't cameras in the bathroom, were there? There couldn't be; there was no way that would be legal. But—

The handled rattled. "You activated the emergency assistance alarm," the voice said. "If you can, please unlock the door."

Lexa looked around, and only then noticed the cord that was still dangled loosely in Clarke's grasp. "Oh shit," she said. "Clarke..." Her stomach lurched as she realized that Clarke was shaking. Was something actually wrong? Had she activated the alarm on purpose? What—

Clarke lifted her head, her face red with suppressed laughter. Which explained the shaking. Relief mixed with annoyance as Clarke's giggles finally burst through, and she slowly, gingerly, pulled herself up and tugged her clothing back into place.

"We're—" Clarke snorted back another laugh. "I'm fine. Everything's fine. It was an accident."

"Dr. Griffin?!"

"Yes," Clarke said. "I just slipped. You can go back to—"

"You know we have to follow protocol," the person on the other side of the door said. "I just need you to open the door so I can see that—"

Lexa tried to rearrange her clothes – and face – into something resembling normal, if not innocent. But the second anyone saw them... She sighed. "Go ahead," she said. "It was bound to happen sometime, right?"

Clarke pulled her into a quick kiss, then unlocked the door, and several nurses came bursting in. Their eyes darted from Clarke to Lexa and back again, and they all stepped back. "Right," one said. "Everything's in order. Thank you." They hustled away.

"We're never going to live this down, are we?" Lexa asked. 

" _We_?" Clarke said, her cheek denting in as she fought back more laughter. " _You_ don't work here."

"No, but if there's ever another slow day..."

Lexa's back collided with the wall as Clarke crashed into her, pinning her from the lips downward. "If there's ever another slow day," Clarke said, "we'll go to an on-call room."

Lexa smirked. "How much longer is your shift?" she asked. 

"Too long," Clarke said. "Come on."


End file.
